Pistachio The True Story of Pinochio
by Elfstone
Summary: *Incomplete* Pistachio is a real boy!...sort of. He's alive, and hating it. PG for a hint of violence and a dash of vulgarity. please r/r
1. Default Chapter

"Oh! The Wishing Star is out tonight!" Gipetto called in mirth. The toy maker had been  
lonely majority of his life, and these past few years he had been in terrible agony. As a toy maker,  
he once enjoyed bringing joy to the young ones who frequented his workshop. But that was no longer  
enough. The old man wasn't getting any younger, and he desperatly wanted a son- a wife, in the  
least. He might have even settled for a companion that would talk back. As of now, all he had was  
his pet fish, Goldie. (He had had a cat at one point, but it, too, had forsaken him. Just as the  
adults in the village had, so long ago).  
Goldie looked at him, and moved her fishy lips in what Gipetto took as an expression of  
exasperation. "Now, now, Goldie. Don't you get cocky on me. I know the Wishing Star is a long shot,  
but it's really the only chance I've got, now, isn't it?"  
Gipetto couldn't understand why the others in the village spurned him so. Sure, he talked  
to his pet gold fish, but who didn't? Maybe he'd had his cat try on a few of the dresses he made  
for his dolls, but didn't all toy makers? He had to test the durability. Right?  
The old man sighed as his arthritic knees creaked. Slowly, he knelt before his open window,  
and began to recite the old verse, just as he had so many times before.  
  
"Star light, Star bright,  
The first star I see tonight.  
I wish I may, I wish I might,  
To have this wish I wish tonight."  
  
Then, quietly and solemnly, his plea. Growing in earenst every night.  
"Oh, Fates. I know I am sentenced to a lonely life, but for what cause? Please, give me  
a companion. Someone to share my life with. Give me a son."  
Before he lifted his head, Gipetto had a thought. 'Perhaps the angels only have so many  
bodies! Maybe if I could provide one...'  
His gaze wandered to his work bench, where sat his latest creation-  
A puppet boy he called Pistachio.  
"Please, Fates!" Gipetto cried again. Tears testified of his pain as he spoke. "Let this  
wooden body be turned to flesh, the strings into the force of life, and the boy be filled with  
spirit."  
After waiting a moment, Gipetto rose and tiredly fell onto his bed. With a sigh, he closed  
his eyes. "Goodnight, Goldie." He whispered. "Good night.. Pistachio." With a final tear, the old  
man felt the hands of sleep upon him.  
Long after the night had set in and the moon had set, a blue light descended from the  
heavens. It shone through the open window to Gipetto's home, and, as it touched the floor, began  
to grow in its brilliance. The old man didn't stir, but the glaring light, now turned white, woke  
the gold fish. In interest, the fish watched painfully as the blinding light contracted. It seemed  
to collapse in upon itself until it took the form of a women. A -winged- woman! The fairest Goldie  
had ever seen. (Though, as a fish, this wasn't many...)  
After winking at the tiny fish, the woman practically levitated to the puppet seated upon  
his maker's table. So graceful was her movement, not a sound was heard save the rustling of her  
cerulean gown. Pulling a wand from an invisible pocket amid the air, she tapped it upon the  
puppets head.  
"Rise, little Pistachio. Wake into humanity. Take consciousnes in the world around you."  
Her voice was so melodious, had the fish a memory span longer than a few seconds, she would have  
longed to hear it ever after.  
Gipetto shifted in his sleep. The Blue Fairie, as she was known, turned to look upon the  
man. As her gaze fell upon him, the white light returned to the room. The man stirred, and after a  
moment sat up, rubbing his eyes. The light faded, and Gipetto began to make out what it was he sat  
starring at.  
"Oh! It's an angel!" He cried in surprise.  
"Nay, good fellow, not an angel. I am the Blue Fairie, and I have come to grant you your  
wish."  
"My wish! But- how....I must be dreaming!"  
"No, Gipetto, you are not. Though when you wake, this will seem like nothing more. The  
only proof you will have of my visit is the young lad I have granted you."  
"My son! You have given me my son!" Tears of joy filled the old mans eyes.  
"I have given your creation life." The Fairie replied evenly. "But, be warned. Should you  
neglect this child or fail to teach him correctly, he will become a wooden puppet once more."  
"Oh, thank you, Blue Fairie, thank you! You are most gracious."  
The Fairie smiled at the simple man, and once more the white light filled the room.  
Gipetto was forced to shield his eyes against it. When he looked again, the Blue Fairie was no  
where to be seen.  
Smiling to himself, Gipetto fell back into his bed, pulling the blankets up around his  
head. With a feeling of ecstasy, he gradually fell into sleep's dark land. That night, he dreamt  
of the future he and his son would never have. 


	2. Chapter II

Gipetto grunted as he sat up in his bed. Fumbling about for his glasses, he nearly  
knocked over Goldie's bowl. To the figure that sat watching him, the old man looked very much like  
a child awakening after a long winters rest. Even more so, as the human remembered the events of  
the night before. Had he the ability to spring out of his bed, the toy maker would have. Taking  
great strides, the old man hurried to his work bench.  
There sat Pistachio. Still as ever. "Perhaps.." sighed Gipetto, slightly hesitant to speak  
the words for fear of any truth that might be hidden in them. "Perhaps it all was but a dream."  
Dejectedly, he picked up his tools and prepared for the work that lay ahead of him.  
As the toy maker went about his work, he was unaware of the set of eyes taking in his  
every move. Hatred burned the entrails of the once wooden frame. A slight twitch came into  
existence on the once inanimate left hand. The strings that would once have been necessary for  
movement shuddered with the dark energies of Hell.  
'Thou, wretched old man.' Pistachio thought, an action all new to him. 'You've ruined me.  
You've made me....-human-.' Disgust and shame sent another shiver through the puppet's body.  
"You'll pay." He spat audibly.  
Gipetto whirled. He hadn't heard anyone come in, but he knew he had heard the youthful  
voice of a young boy. When he looked about, there was no one to be seen. Disappointed in his  
continuously lonely occupation, the old man turned back to his table, mumbling to himself about  
hearing voices again.  
As Pistachio sat watching, another new occurance that came about. He heard a voice in his head,  
slightly different than the one he had heard a moment before. And he didn't control this once.  
"Pistachio!" The voice cried out. "It's a pleasure to meet you! I'm your conscience."  
"Conscience?" The newly made little boy repeated.  
"That's right!" The voice replied.  
The boy thought for a moment. Conscience? He didn't register that word with anything he  
had come to realize within his time of consciousness.  
"It's my job to help you choose the right." The little voice seemed as if it could read  
his mind. 'Which is only logical considering what it is.' Pistachio thought.  
"Then, Conscience, tell me if vengeance is right or...not right."  
Gipetto grumbled something undecipherable and continued working.  
"Vengeance is never right, Pistachio."  
"Not even if it seems justified?" This voice was beginning to annoy the once puppet boy.  
"No! Don't even think about harming someone else."  
Pistachio frowned at this. All his thoughts since he had been awakened revolved around  
causing others pain and discomfort. He wondered if there was some way to mute the voice. Figuring  
there probably wasn't, he sighed.  
The old man turned around again. He knew he had heard something that time. When he did so, he  
saw Pistachio looking at him. Looking at him! When last he touched the puppet-turned-boy, it had  
been staring at the ceiling! Ecstaticly, the toy maker jumped up with energy like that which he  
hadn't felt in years. He was in the act of rushing to his boy, arms spread wide, when the boys eyes  
changed from a vacant look, to a gaze of terror and shock, to that of commanding hatred.  
"Stop!" Pistachio yelled in his high pitched voice.  
Gipetto did so. He was confused by his sons attempted harshness.  
Pistachio was overcome. This bumbling fool had woken him. This insolent pest planned to  
govern over his every move. This massive dotard had turned him into a -human-! Rage taking control  
of his actions, Pistachio stood up on the work bench.  
"Pistachio! Stop!" Cried Conscience.  
Ignoring the tiny voices pleas, the once puppet leapt off his perch. As he landed, he  
heard a faint CRUNCH. Under his wooden shoe was splattered an insect. The red blood made  
Pistachio smile; reminiscent of the scarlet paint that had tickled his wooden features, giving him  
such joy. Those were the days when life had been easy, when one could relax without having to think.  
As Pistachio looked, a notion dripped into his head.  
'What was it they called this bug? Cricket? That's a funny word.'  
"Pi-Pistachio, my son." Gipetto inadvertantly brought Hell's fury back upon his head.  
"Silence, infidel." The almost girlish voice of Pistachio sliced through Gipetto's feelings  
of happiness in watching his companion move. He was beginning to think perhaps this fellowship  
wouldn't work out as well as he had once hoped.  
As the puppet-boy drew near his creator, he heard a noise behind him. Thankfully, not the  
annoying Conscience, but his strings dragging on the ground. "How convenient of you to give me a  
weapon." He said in his innocent sounding voice. Snapping the strings off of his appendages, he  
wielded his make-shift rope. As he advanced on Gipetto, the old man slowly stepped backwards.  
"P-Please, my son! I gave you life!"  
"Yes, life." Pistachio growled. "You damned me to a life as a human. A wretched, vile,  
human!" His voice shrill, he jumped at the toy maker.  
On reflex, Gipetto partly jumped, partly fell out of the path of the enraged puppet-boy.  
Turning, Pistachio looked once more into his creators eyes. The pair of blue orbs were wide  
with fear, and drops of water leaked from them. Water, which may or may not have accounted for the  
damp spot on his pants.  
The little boy grinned a grin that would have been better suited upon the evilest creature  
of the darkness. Seeing this, Gipetto froze. Pistachio's eyes held him in place as the tiny  
assassin drew closer.  
"You'll pay for your sins." The once-wooden-boy said in a voice that was as deep as was  
possible for him.  
Abruptly, he lunged at Gipetto, who wasn't quick enough this time. Once on him, Pistachio  
pummled the old man. Tiny fists of fury sounded off the beat of Deaths war drum. Finally tiring of  
the tedious work, the puppet-boy drew out his strings. Holding them taut, he strung them around his  
creators neck. Pulling tightly, he laughed at the similarities between his gagging father and the  
flopping fish that had fallen on the floor during the fight. When Gipetto stopped squirming, stopped  
moving, Pistachio released his grasp. Vengeance was his. 


End file.
